“Susan?!” Jennifer exclaimed, “What the hell happened to you, gurl?!”
“What do you mean?” this alternate universe version of Susan asked, “I’ve just found you this morning after-”
“N-no I mean like,” Jennifer cut in to clarify, “What happened to you and how you got so tall and fat and… and grew a dick? Why d’you have a dick?!”
“Ooh, I should have figured my dolly would want to be in the loop,” Susan cooed, “It’s a very interesting story, you see. It happened years ago during a period of time called ‘The Elevation’ that turned half of humanity into a separate dominant species from the rest of the now submissive population.”
“S-submissive?” Jennifer quivered.
“Just like all good little dollies should be,” Susan motherly smiled at her former best friend turned apparent plaything, “because that’s what you are! My good little dolly! You get to wear all kinds of cutesy clothes and snuggle with me all the time, and you also get to take my fat futa cock in either hole and it only hurts a tiny bit!”
“F-fat… f-f-futa… c-cock?” Jennifer squeaked.
“Uh huh! That’s what I am,” Susan explained, “I’m a futa! I get to wear sexy outfits made of leather and latex and denim and stuff that fits pretty tight and shows off my fatass curves… and my bulging cock. I also get to lovingly bully my dolly so that she knows her place, which is right at the middle of my heart!”
“B-bully?!” Jennifer wheezed.
“Not in a mean way,” Susan clarified, “It just means I show my affection through rough play and stuff like that. Luckily your body can handle a lot of punishment, despite how fragile it looks, and futa semen doesn’t make dollies get pregnant so I can afford a little rough love. And don’t you worry about being about the same size as my cock, because dollies are extremely stretchy, and they also like the pain so long as it’s loving pain. Of course, you can tell the difference between mean pain and nice pain, all dollies can!”
“Okay stop!” Jennifer pleaded, “L-let me know if I got this straight. You’re called a futa, and I’m a dolly?”
“Yup!” Susan nodded.
“And futas keep dollies as living subby sex toys?”
“Yup yup!”
“So… what happens if I don’t want to be your toy?” Jennifer asked.
“Why wouldn’t you want to be my dolly?” Susan cried, a bit hurt by the question, “You want to be a stray and face an early death from starvation for food and rough love? I don’t want my favorite girl dying early! Heck, I don’t want you to die at all! You’re too cute for that! You’re my dolly!”
“Okay, okay!” Jennifer redirected, “Forget I asked. Umm… can I ask why I’m dressed like this?”
“Because it’s cute,” Susan said simply, “Everyone dresses their dollies in cute, girly outfits, even the boys! Sometimes they have tomboy outfits that are cute but nowhere near as cute as dresses and tutus and pink things!”
“Like… sissy clothes?”
“A little bit, yeah.”
“Okay, I’m convinced,” Jennifer declared, “Here’s what I think about this world:”